


Default Position

by beltainefaerie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, discussions of safer sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 16:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17646188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beltainefaerie/pseuds/beltainefaerie
Summary: “This is John Watson, my boyfriend by default.” He wasn’t sure quite why he’d said it like that or to this particular person.





	Default Position

The suspect answered the door and was blandly pleasant, not hostile or cagey but also smart enough not to seem smug. He thought he was getting away with it. 

Sherlock was in the midst of introducing himself and John when he uttered, “This is John Watson, my boyfriend by default.” He wasn’t sure quite why he’d said it like that or to this particular person. It slipped out. He _had_ come to think of John that way, but certainly hadn’t meant to bring it up aloud, especially in front of a stranger, and on a case no less. Leaving off the odd ‘by default’ would have made more sense if he was trying to further disarm him by implying that that they were gay too. 

John gave him a look that was hard to parse. Perplexed, startled, and- was that a flash of hurt? After a moment he smiled and shook his head. For his part, their suspect raised a brow and chuckled, as John added, “I’m his partner,” then obviously realising how that sounded, he clumsily tacked on, “in his work with NSY and private clients.” 

Despite the awkwardness, they were invited in. The suspect offered them tea, which they declined saying they would only be a moment as they had a few more leads to check on. Of course they weren’t going to drink anything he served them, given that he had absolutely been the one to poison the deceased.

It didn’t take long before he gave them just what they needed. Sherlock asked a few questions, some answered and some dodged, but, the killer gave himself away when he called the victim’s dog by name, proving they’d known each other before.

Sherlock texted Lestrade under the table as he strung the killer along further in conversation, buying time for the arrest. 

By the time they opened the door to leave, Lestrade’s team had surrounded the house. The arrest was a short business. Though their suspect did try to do a runner, John was on him before he got more than a few feet from the porch, tackling him to the ground in a move that was more rugby than military. Magnificent. Watching him set Sherlock’s heart hammering. It didn’t take long for the team to get their man cuffed and into the waiting car. Sherlock answered a few questions for Lestrade, then hailed a cab to take them back to Baker Street. 

All in all it had gone rather well, Sherlock thought, despite his odd introduction of John. Perhaps, he was going to let that slip past. But as his eyes drifted to the flatmate sitting beside him in the cab, that seemed unlikely. He looked tense, his posture rigid and fist clenching reflexively, as it so frequently did when he was agitated. Sherlock watched as John drew a deep quiet breath and held it a moment before speaking. 

“What was that back there, hmm?”

“What was what?” Sherlock evaded, though he knew perfectly well what John meant.

“I’m your ‘boyfriend’ now? And by default? Ta for that.”

“Well it got him to let us in, didn’t it? Besides, I don’t have another and you’ve never indicated that you’d be okay being an official boyfriend.” 

John started a bit at that. “What makes you think I’m comfortable being a boyfriend ‘by default,’ hmm?

Sherlock tried to laugh it off. “Honestly I say all kinds of things to criminals. What does it matter?”

John fixed him with a look.

“Just... trying it out.” Sherlock said, almost wincing at how lame that sounded. “You’ve stopped dating anyone else, you know,” he added with a bit more confidence and looked up, genuinely curious as to whether John had noticed. 

“I’ve… well, yeah. I suppose I have,” John sighed, “but that doesn’t mean I’m dating you, you berk. I’m not actually-” 

John didn’t seem irritated. More amused actually. At least fond. Sherlock decided to press on. “John Watson, before you say you’re not gay, you _are_ bisexual. You know it. I know it. And if Harry wasn’t so bi-phobic everyone else would know it. I was happy enough to ignore it when I thought you weren’t interested.” 

John cleared his throat. “And, um, what makes you sure that I am?”

It wasn’t exactly a denial. He didn’t sound offended. Curious perhaps, as to what gave it away? That was all right, then. “You glance at my lips more than you do with other people, you stand closer to me than you do to others as well. You describe attractive men as floridly as you do women on your blog. I saw you checking out our waiter’s arse the other night, which is barely worth noting as it isn’t actually an unusual occurrence regardless of their gender. But mostly,” Sherlock paused, “I can hear you through the vent.”

John’s eyes went wide, blood flooding to color his cheeks. He was absolutely breathtaking. 

“You don’t have to look ashamed about it. Nearly everyone past puberty does. We just don’t all cry out our flatmate’s name.” Sherlock’s voice was light, but his gaze was hungry as he added, “Of course since both of us do so, there shouldn’t really be a problem.”

John’s eyes widened fractionally more before he sighed in relief and leaned in. He cupped the back of Sherlock’s head, pulling him in for a deep kiss that left them both breathless. As the cab pulled up to the kerb, they reluctantly parted. 

Sherlock nearly felt high on the cocktail of endorphins, serotonin, dopamine and norepinephrine flooding his system, the situation turning out to be as far from a problem as it could get. In fact, it looked like he might be getting what he’d always wanted.

As he paid the fare, he glanced up at John, hovering on the threshold, uncharacteristically waiting to enter together. Slowly his face broke out in a smile and he strode the short distance to where John stood. 

“Shall we?” Sherlock asked, gesturing through the open door to the stairs.

“You should go first. Your _boyfriend_ wants to unapologetically stare at your arse.”

Sherlock swung his hips rather more than necessary, practically camp, as he sashayed up the stairs. 

John chuckled softly behind him. 

Sherlock felt lightheaded. Giddy, even. When he had dared think of such things at all, (and there was no sense lying about it, that had been rather often) he had come up with at least sixteen scenarios where John huffily went for some air or even stayed a few nights with Harry while he adjusted. There was one, however unlikely to occur, in which he flat-out left, which was too horrifying to contemplate for more than a minute altogether. In seven further scenarios, he simply went to his room and the next morning carried on as normal that day and thereafter, but never spoke of it again. Sherlock had barely let himself think on the (thirteen) ways things played out more positively and certainly hadn’t had the conscious intention to attempt any of them today. 

It had simply happened. And things were going exceedingly well.

He lay down on the couch, propped up on one elbow with a kind of forced casualness, belied by the racing of his heart, as he waiting for John to ascend the last few stairs. 

They were really doing this, though if pressed, Sherlock wouldn’t have been able to say precisely what “this” was. 

John emerged and went through his usual routine of getting comfortable: setting aside shoes, hanging up his coat. He cleared his throat and looked at Sherlock, uncertainty clouding his features. “You know, I’ve never done this before.”

Sherlock sat up. “With a man.”

“Yeah.” John smiled lopsidedly, running his fingers through his hair, a nervous tell, which Sherlock had always found utterly endearing in his flatmate.

“Anything you’d particularly like to start with? Your dates with women always start with an outing, but in this case, can the interrogation and arrest count? I’d rather not go back out today. Usually there is also food, but if a meal is necessary we can order in. Or you could start by coming here.”

John’s smile broadened and he licked his lips. “Yeah, I could do that.” He closed the distance between them, and looked down at Sherlock’s face. “Hello, love.”

“Hello,” Sherlock returned, tilting his head up. Thankfully, John took it for the invitation it was, bending down to capture Sherlock’s lips once more. 

Slowly, John pulled back and met Sherlock’s heated gaze. “Care to move this to somewhere more comfortable?” 

“I’ve always pictured us in your bed,” Sherlock admitted.

“Then follow me.” John said, pulling Sherlock to his feet. 

This time, it was Sherlock who could admire the view. Though John at times bemoaned that he wasn’t as fit as his rugby days or in the army, in Sherlock’s estimation he was absolutely perfect. 

Sherlock laid down on the bed while John rummaged in his bedside table then set out condoms and lube. “No pressure. I just want to have supplies accessible if we want them later.”

“Thoughtful.”

“Like to be prepared. I don’t without-”

“Protection,” Sherlock finished easily. “Makes sense. Me either, though I was tested during my last stint at rehab and there’ve been no partners since. No IV drugs either, though I was meticulous about needles even when that was my habit.” 

“Good to know.”

“Yes, but not terribly sexy, I’m afraid.”

“Knowing that we are both clean actually sounds remarkably sexy to me,” John said, straddling Sherlock’s hips, sliding just so. 

Sherlock gasped as their erections slotted together through the fabric of their trousers.

John kissed Sherlock again, their bodies moving together. 

“If you keep that up I’m not sure we’ll get as far as needing protection anyway,” Sherlock quipped. 

“Hush, you,” John whispered, kissing him again and rolling his hips. “Just let yourself feel good.”

It felt better than good. Perhaps bordering on miraculous.. Amazing enough that he wasn’t even embarrassed about the little moans and whimpers he was making into John’s mouth as they kissed, enjoying the warmth and friction, John’s cock heavy and hard against him. If it was this good still fully clothed he could hardly wait to feel John skin to skin. 

At that moment Sherlock’s brain short circuited. John’s kisses trailed down Sherlock’s neck, nipping lightly, his hands tugging softly in Sherlock’s hair and rolling his hips just perfectly.

“John!” Sherlock cried out, trembling as pleasure washed through him. When he came back to himself, John was staring down at him.

Sherlock flushed, “John, I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t apologize for the most beautiful thing I’ve ever see.”

They kissed again, slow and languid. It was heaven.

Sherlock blinked up at him, “But you haven’t…” 

“I’m not worried. We have all the time in the world, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of silliness. Enjoy! Thanks janto321 for betaing. 
> 
> Kudos and comments feed my muse. Thanks for reading! I'm beltainefaerie across platforms. Come say hi!


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